Almost Normal
by VGWrighte
Summary: Alternate Reality based on Continuum, where Jack makes it back to Earth instead of Cam. Sam/Jack fluff story. Complete.
1. Prologue

Almost Normal

Prologue

Based upon Stargate: Continuum

- . - - - . -

_Jack shoved Daniel through the wormhole and followed him as quick as he could. The first thing he realized as he hit the other side was that it was cold. It kind of felt like the first time he had gone through the stargate, but he was still on his feet. He crashed into Daniel on the other side, who had apparently crashed into Sam on his way through as well._

_They all stood on a 2x8 metal plank that extended out from the stargate. Then it went dark. The 'gate disengaged and they stood in total darkness._

_Damn. He knew he should have been carrying a weapon. At least the P90s had headlights on them. Daniel and Sam must have been thinking the same thing because they switched on their beacons and looked around._

_"Sir!" came Sam's panicked voice before she turned around and saw him, relief spreading over her face._

_He knew what she was thinking. The last time they came through a stargate to Earth and landed in a freezing enclosed space that was certainly not the 'gateroom, he had a broken leg and they almost died of hypothermia. Well, it was much colder here, but at least his leg wasn't broken and his uniform was still dry._

_He did, for a second, consider the fact that Mitchell was dead while he was alive. When Teal'c disappeared, Jack moved to grab Ba'al, but Mitchell beat him to the punch. The needle that pierced Mitchell's heart could have easily pierced his own. He wasn't going to forget that._

_"Dorothy," he said, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."_

_"Really?" Daniel asked in an irritated voice. "What gave you that idea?"_

Well isn't he in a sour mood?_ Jack commented to himself before turning around. "Well, unless no one paid the electric bill, this isn't the 'gateroom. That, and the stargate's in a box."_

_"Is it getting colder in here?" Daniel asked, looking at Sam._

_"Yeah, the wormhole must have warmed up the compartment a little, but the temperature's dropping fast," she explained._

_"Warmed it up?" Jack repeated. "Come on," he jumped down from the plank they had all been standing on. "Let's get the hell out of here."_

- . - - - . -


	2. Chapter One

Almost Normal

Chapter One

Based upon Stargate: Continuum

- . - - - . -

Samantha Carter was frustrated. Well, that's not completely accurate. She was angry. Well, she was both. She slapped her hands against her steering wheel. She was angry because it was Jack O'Neill's birthday. It was Jack O'Neill's birthday and he was . . .

Well, she didn't know where he was. That was part of the problem.

Suddenly hyperaware of her radio and how much she _hated_ this song, Sam punched one of her presets. Ugh! Another song she hated. She punched another preset, and another, and another. She went through all of them, finding nothing interesting. She stabbed the seek button. Nothing. Too fast, too slow, too rock, too pop, too country, too oldies, too contemporary, arg! Classical! Like she was in the mood for _that_!

Sam was once again reminded how much she hated listening to the radio when she was upset. She found herself fuming in silence a lot more frequently here than she did _there_. "There" being the timeline she came from. If she ever got her hands on Ba'al she was going to kill him, slowly.

Because here she was, on Jack's birthday, driving to the Flagstaff Community College where she worked as an associate math professor. She wasn't even Samantha Carter any more.

Flagstaff was okay, she supposed. Sure, the weather kind of sucked, but she had been accustomed to Colorado Springs and Washington, D.C. before that. And teaching university drop outs and last chance students college algebra and trigonometry wasn't exactly blowing up a sun.

Okay, that was unfair. Most of her students really were motivated to learn and were actually quite intelligent, despite some of their opinions of themselves. And she did like algebra, and teaching it to them.

But the fact was that it was her husband's birthday and not only was she not with him and couldn't contact him, but she had no idea where he was or what his new name was, assuming the Air Force didn't let him run around as a second Jack O'Neill.

Second Jack O'Neill. To say that she had been shocked to see a _Colonel_ Jack O'Neill walk up to them on the ice shelf would be an understatement.

_"Which one of you is the General?"_ Colonel O'Neill had barked, walking up to them and pulling down his balaclava.

Sam and her Jack also removed their face coverings, and everyone's mouth had dropped open.

_"Well now who know what it feels like," Sam said, thinking about the number of 'herself' she'd met over the years._

_Her Jack gave her a sarcastic smile. "What goes around comes around, I guess . . ."_

_"Who the hell are you two?" Colonel O'Neill asked, drawing the attention back to himself._

_Her Jack raised his hand in preface. "This is gonna sound a little weird."_

_Colonel O'Neill waved his hands. "I don't think I want to hear it, especially not from you," he pointed sharply at her Jack, "Or you for that matter," he pointed at her too._

_"You recognize her?" her Jack asked._

_"Enough questions from you two. You're going to answer our questions about why the hell a copy of me and a dead astronaut are walking around an ice shelf!"_

_Sam was still focusing on the 'dead astronaut' comment when one of the men behind him waved and shouted something._

_"Come on, our ride is here."_

_"Where?" she asked._

_Colonel O'Neill turned around just in time for the ice to shatter and a submarine settle on the surface. Sam stared for a minute, shocked. That was kind of amazing, she'd never seen a submarine break ice before._

_"Well, that's cool," her Jack muttered._

Bringing herself back to the present, Sam parked her car in faculty parking and headed towards her office, a short six minute walk with either an elevator or two flights of stairs. She usually took the stairs, if only to add some time to her daily routine. She made it to her office and plopped down in her desk chair, her mood having gone from angry to defeated.

She rubbed her fist over her sternum, over the pair of dog tags that hung there. She pulled them from her shirt and stared at them for a second. One had her own name (her real name), the other had Jack's.

_"In order to prevent you from attempting to change the timeline, you will be separated and given new identities. Doctor Jackson, if you'll come with me. Colonel Carter with Staff Sergeant Brown, and General, please go with Airman Kingsley,"_ the Technical Sergeant said.

_"You're gonna give me two minutes with my wife,"_ Jack had said.

_"You know I can't do that, Sir."_

_Jack took one step towards him and repeated himself in a dark tone. "You are going to give me two minutes with my wife." It wasn't a request._

_"Give them the room," Landry's voice came over the loud speakers. Every head in the room snapped to the mirror. She had known it was a one way mirror, they all knew, they weren't stupid. However, they hadn't expected Landry to be on the other side._

_"Sir," the Tech Sergeant started to protest._

_"Give them the room," Landry repeated._

_Sam gave Daniel a quick hug, having no words. He gripped her tight. Jack put his hand on his shoulder. "Take care of the leg," he said._

_Daniel forced a smile for them. "I guess in forty years, when we're all old, we can move into a little cabin on the beach and complain about the weather."_

_Despite herself, Sam laughed. The Tech Sergeant turned Daniel's wheelchair around took him from the room, followed by the two other airmen. No one said goodbye, unable to form the words._

_When the door closed behind them, Jack pulled Sam to him, slinging his arms around her waist._

_She put her arms around his neck._

_"Listen, Sam, you're young enough to be happy here," he said. "So if you need to . . . If you need to find someone . . ."_

_Sam couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sure, they had only been married for three months, but, realistically, they had been monogamous for two years, ten if you didn't count the Pete and Kerri incidents. "Shut up," she whispered before tucking her head into his neck._

_He shifted his grip and tightened his arms around her. After a few moments he brought this hands up and started to unhook her tags. He leaned back, pulling the chain that held her dog tags and her wedding ring from her shirt. "Then wear this, all the time."_

_She let him slip her ring on her finger before pulling him back to her and kissing him. She couldn't believe it was ending like this, stranded in an alternate timeline and forced to live the life of a stranger alone._

_Sam leaned back again, and pulled his tags out. "Give me one of these," she said._

_He replied with that look. That are-you-freaking-kidding-me look._

_"I know it's sappy, just give me one." He smiled and obliged her. She traded one, so they each had a mismatched pair. "Now it'll always be real."_

_He kissed her forehead and then rested his cheek against it, holding her tight. "It'll always be real," he said quietly._

_She pulled him down to her and kissed him slowly. He pulled back a little, leaving their lips close enough to brush together. "Our anniversary," he said, barely loud enough to hear. She opened her eyes and gazed at him. "The park where we gave Cassie her dog."_

_"Okay," she whispered against his lips, understanding._

_"I love you," he said, not moving._

_She smiled. He didn't say that much, he didn't need to, but she loved when he did. "I love you, too," she replied._

_He kissed her again before tucking his face into her neck and holding her tight._

Sam remembered the scene with vivid detail. Even though they promised to meet again, she realized (as he probably did as well) that it was more than likely the Air Force would catch onto them before they were able to meet and put a stop to the whole thing before it happened. If that was so, she was sure that they both would try again the following year, and the year after that, until either they actually did it or the Air Force would admit defeat and cave. If they were caught the first time, she knew she would probably never see him again.

_A small knock on the door of the isolation room let them know their time was almost up. He kissed her once more, slowly, taking the time to nibble on her lips a little, as if nothing was wrong. She gave him a small smile and squeezed his hands as the door opened. They both took a half step back, not in retreat, but to see who came into the room. It was the Staff Sergeant and the Airman. They kissed once more and were led out of the room, and led down different corridors._

She didn't look back.

Replaying it a thousand times in her mind, she wondered if she should have. Every time, she decided that no, it was good that the last she saw of him was his face, not his back walking away.

She looked at the calendar on the wall of her office. Six months down, two and a half to go. She could do this. She could make it. She hadn't cried yet, and she wasn't going to. She had cried for Cam, sure, but she hadn't cried because they took her life. They had taken everything from her, but she was still Samantha Carter, damnit! Well . . . kind of. She was still her, and they were never going to take that from _her_, no matter how hard they tried.

- . - - - . -

Stay tuned for chapter two


	3. Chapter Two

Almost Normal

Chapter Two

Based upon Stargate: Continuum

Thanks for your patience and wonderful reviews.

- . - - - . -

Jack was terrified. He was excited, and happy, but extremely terrified. He hadn't seen Sam in eight and half months. It wasn't that he was afraid she wouldn't show, or had done like he offered and moved on.

He was terrified that she was pregnant.

He hadn't seen in her in eight and half months and the last time he had seen her, some . . . _marital stuff_ had happened. Sure, they were always careful, but nothing was fool proof. He hoped to God she wasn't pregnant.

He kept telling himself that she wasn't. They would've told him. They weren't that cruel. They wouldn't separate a man from his wife _and_ kid; a baby from its dad. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't. They were going to spend the next day together without a care in the world and it was going to be great.

She wasn't pregnant.

He hoped.

Jack had gotten to the park as the sun came up. He easily found the spot where he had first given Cassie her dog. It occurred to him that there was a very good chance that Cassie was dead now, too. That saddened him. He tried not to think about it. Hey, maybe as Ba'al started taking control, he removed Nirrti from power and halted her hak'tar experiments and Cassie was alive and well with her family. Yeah, that was what he was going to choose to believe.

Looking around the park, he turned back to praying that Sam wasn't pregnant, even though it would do no good now. Jack looked behind him for a second and when he turned around, he saw her.

Tall, blonde, wearing sunglasses, and - thank God - skinny. Well, not "thank God" that she was skinny, as opposed to fat; but skinny as opposed to pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. He released the breath he'd been holding on to for the last several months. He stood and fought his legs not to run at her.

She walked towards him at a comfortable pace. Somehow, the last ten steps or so turned into about three and she leapt into his arms, throwing hers around his neck. Her lips were on his before he could think.

Okay, so they were making a scene. He honestly didn't care. Well, he had to admit that he always liked being seen in public with her. He wasn't one for all the kissy kissy crap or anything, but he did like it when they got second looks. People no doubt thought what the hell a knock out like her was doing with a geezer like himself. He liked it that he made other men jealous. That must have been some prehistoric male trait, but he enjoyed it just the same.

"I missed you," she finally said, tearing her lips from his and burying her face in his neck.

"Me too," he said. He ran one hand through her hair, it was a little longer than it had been last time they saw each other. He wondered if she was growing it longer or planned to cut it again. He would have to ask her, but definitely later.

After several seconds of the tightest hug, she released him and he led her to the bench he'd been waiting on. They sat down next to each other, slightly facing, and knees touching. She took one of his hands, he put the other on the bench back behind her. There was silence for a few seconds.

Then she laughed.

"I don't know what to say," she said.

He smiled. It was a little ridiculous. Neither of them had anything to say. They had waited eight and a half months, and there was absolutely nothing to say.

"Happy anniversary?" he offered.

Sam rewarded him with a smile and a kiss. "Happy anniversary."

"How have you been?" he asked.

She released a short cynical laugh, but didn't answer. After a few seconds, she gave him a small smile. "Okay. Some days are harder than others, but I've been okay. What about you?"

"You know me, just peachy."

She laughed again, softly. He was glad that she still found him amusing. She put her hand to his face and ran her thumb over his cheek bone. "I missed you," she said.

He moved his hand from behind her and placed it on her thigh.

Her eyes got a little cloudy and she leaned into him a little.

He broke eye contact and looked down at their hands on her thighs. "I got a hotel room," he said quietly. He was a little ashamed by the statement. _That_ wasn't the only he had missed her. Sure, he was anxious for the touch of her skin, but he wanted a quiet place where they could be themselves, their real selves. He wanted to be able to call her by her name without drawing attention to a dead national hero.

Sam kissed his temple and urged him to stand. "What are we waiting for?"

- . - . -

They both took their own cars and caravanned to the hotel. It was just a little Courtyard Marriot. Something small, simple, and inconspicuous. He jumped out of his truck to be standing right behind her as she grabbed her duffle from the back seat of her car. She turned around to him standing inches from her.

She smiled softly and he leaned forward. They kissed softly, right there, in the parking lot, up against her car, but everything else had disappeared. "Let's go inside," she said softly.

He nodded, got his own duffle out of his truck and put his arm around her shoulder as they walked in. They usually weren't ones for cutesy walking with arms around shoulders, but he wanted as much contact as he could get away with for as long as he could get away with.

As soon as the doors opened, they stopped dead in their tracks, meeting familiar faces. "The jig is up," Jack said, glancing at Sam for a second.

Janet Fraiser and Paul Davis didn't stand. They continued to sit on the couches in the small sitting area of the lobby.

"Fraiser is your handler?" he asked.

Sam looked up at him. "Davis is yours?"

"It is a small world, after all."

"Colonel, General, you have put us in a very difficult position," Fraiser said, ignoring their little exchange.

He and Sam stepped out of the doorway and up to the annoyed and angry Air Force officers.

"So what are you going to do?" Sam asked.

"Well, obviously everyone's going their separate ways right now," Davis said.

"Oh, come on, Davis. What are you going to do? Make us?" Jack asked, realizing the words sounded a little juvenile.

"Only if we have to, _General_," Janet spat.

"Just like ours, isn't she?" Jack asked.

"Just as spunky."

Davis and Fraiser watched them carefully, realizing something was passing between them, unspoken. Everyone they knew might as well be dead, including almost each other.

"You've had your fun, let's go home," Janet said.

Jack laughed cynically. "There was no fun had."

"Come on, Janet," Sam said darkly. "Even convicts get conjugal visits."

Silence fell over them as everyone considered her words.

"Sam," Janet's tone softened, trying to justify her government's position.

"No, really," Sam insisted. "You take me from my friends, my husband, tell me where to live, and limit what I can do. I am _dead_ in this world. I don't exist anymore. I'm not letting you take this from me!"

Jack squeezed her shoulder gently, trying to offer her a bit of comfort.

Fraiser turned to Davis. "If they got this far once, they can do it again."

"Fraiser," he said in a warning tone.

"This is way above our paygrade," she countered.

They both turned back to Sam and Jack.

Davis fumed for a second. "Despite my better judgment, we're giving you three hours."

"Really?" the word flew out of Jack's mouth unbidden.

"We're going to make a few calls in the next three hours and you two better be back here, good to go at 1430, or so help me . . ." Fraiser trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken. "2.30," Fraiser repeated.

"Alright, Janet, 2.30 it is," Sam responded. She took her hand from Jack's waist and squeezed his hand on her shoulder. "Come on."

He followed her out of the lobby but took the lead when she realized she didn't know where their room was. He lead her to it and let them inside. They dropped their bags and stared at the bed.

"I feel cheap," he said. If he didn't feel bad about the hotel room before, he did now. They were confined to a single room for three hours; given the time for one reason and one reason only. A conjugal visit.

Sam smiled and turned to face him, slinging her arms around his next. "That's okay, you're my cheap whore."

He blanched. "I never said I felt like whore."

She leaned up to kiss him. "Talk later," she said in a husky voice, "I paid for three hours and I don't want to waste them."

- . - . -

Sam was half wrapped around, half on top of her husband of one year today, covered in only a sheet. They were close enough that she could press her lips to his by only leaning over a little.

"What do you do?" he asked after a short while of silence.

She laughed.

"What? That was a serious question."

"No, it's just funny. That question usually comes before the sleeping together."

"True," he kissed her.

"I'm a college math teacher."

He smiled. "Really? Do I have to worry about the nerds getting hot for teacher?" he asked, peering down his nose at her.

"No. I teach Algebra at a community college, there are few nerds."

"What about the other little snot-nosed weasels?"

She kissed him. "No, there was one kid who was at my office hours every week, but I could've beaten him off with one hand behind my back if he ever got the nerve to say anything."

Jack squeezed her. "I'm glad. I don't want to have to worry about your honor."

She laughed.

"So what do you do?" she asked.

He smiled. "Usually that question comes before the sleeping together." She swatted his shoulder. "I run a mom-and-pop outdoor sporting goods store."

She laughed.

"I'm serious!"

She continued to laugh. "Oh, I believe you."

He laughed with her, enjoying the opportunity to do so. She calmed after a second. "Who's mom?" she asked. He gave her a confused look and she clarified, "If you're 'pop,' who's 'mom?'"

He detected something in her voice. "Why Colonel Carter, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

"Does it need to be?"

He chuckled. "No. 'Mom' is an 85 year old widow named Erma."

She burst into laughter again. He was about to tell her he was serious, but she shook her head, "Oh, I believe you," she said, anticipating his words. "That's just too perfect."

"I'm glad you think my life is a joke."

Again, she laughed.

Her laughter was cut short when the phone rang. "We can't be late," Sam said, not believing they'd lost track of the time. They had practically been counting heartbeats.

Jack twisted and stretched, "We've got twenty minutes."

She rolled away from him and picked up the receiver. "Yes," she said.

As expected, it was Janet's voice. _"Colonel, the guys in charge would like to discuss this further. Your time limit has been extended until zero nine tomorrow morning."_

"Really?"

Janet didn't answer for a second. _"You two are quite the trouble makers. The big shots want to make sure they give this situation ample consideration. Remember, zero nine. Don't be late."_

Before she could answer, Janet hung up the phone. She supposed she should have been a little grateful for that. She hung up the receiver and rolled over, settling back into Jack's arms even though he hadn't fully released her while she was on the phone.

"So, who was that?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

She pushed him down and climbed over him. "Janet. They extended out deadline."

"Really?"

"Yep, nine tomorrow." She settled her forearms on either side of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

"Evening?" he asked, eyebrows popping, and his hands finding her hips.

She smiled, knowing he was joking. "No, just morning. But that may just be time enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Enough to pretend that life doesn't suck."

He rubbed her sides. "Sam," he said in his most understanding tone.

"You grew your hair out," she said, changing the subject. They could get all sappy and depressed later. Right now she didn't want to think about that.

He smiled. "I know you like a little something to run your fingers through, so I delayed my haircut."

She kissed him. "Thank you." She ran her fingers through it a few times. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

His teeth flashed, leaning up to her. "Hey, gotta keep the missus happy."

- . - . -

Jack lay on his stomach, half on top of his wife of a year today. She was also on her stomach, her arms tucked underneath her, half asleep.

"What's your name?" he finally asked. He knew they gave her a new name. They couldn't let her walk around as Sam Carter when she was a dead national hero. He was still Jack O'Neill, but all-in-all that was a generally common name and people didn't recognize him off the street.

"What?" she asked, opening her eyes.

"Your name, what is it now?"

"Helen Magnus," she replied dryly.

He made a face.

"What?"

"You don't look like a 'Helen.'"

She laughed for him, but it quickly faded. He gripped her tighter, sensing a wave of depression take her, and kissed her temple. He understood, he did. She wasn't allowed to be herself anymore, and she had no personal support to get through that.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He knew she was getting ready to lay down a bombshell. "Sometimes," she admitted, "it doesn't feel real."

"Sam," he rubbed her back.

She fingered the tags hanging from his neck. "Sometimes it feels like . . . like I'm a lonely middle-aged loser who invented an exciting life with a sexy husband just to . . . have a reason to feel less pathetic."

He pulled her face to his shoulder as she started to cry. "Remember what I said?" he asked quietly.

"You said it'd always be real," she whispered through tears.

"No one's crazy enough to make up this story. Not even a young, brilliant, Earth-saving scientist-Colonel." He kissed her forehead and held her tighter. She cried a little more.

"Hey, I've got something for you," he extricated himself from her arms and headed towards his duffle bag. "It's not wrapped," he said, smiling over his shoulder. He knew she knew he was making this up on the fly, but he was making it all the more obvious.

He fished around his bag and put the item behind his back, and climbed back into the bed with her, causing her to sit up with him. "Call it a birthday slash anniversary slash Christmas slash any-reason-to-give-you-a-present present." She held his gaze with dark eyes. He handed it to her.

It was one of his flannel button down shirts. It was his favorite, well worn and soft from overuse. She held it to her bare chest, tears continuing down her face. Jack pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. She released the shirt to cling to him. He rocked her slowly and shushed her softly.

Several minutes passed and nothing changed. She cried into his shoulder, and he let her.

He needed to let her know that it wasn't just her that felt completely alone most of the time. He took a deep breath, and made a confession of his own. "I found my son."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"I wasn't going to. I mean, he's not my kid. But I was curious, I had to see . . ."

"And?" she asked, resting her head on his chest again.

"He's in college. Wants to become a high school history teacher."

Sam didn't respond.

"He looks a lot like his mother. S'got a hippie/surfer dude haircut." Jack paused for a second. "That's how I knew he wasn't my son."

"He's only not your son only as much as you're not that colonel we met on the ice."

Jack released a dark chuckle. "Hey, you met him."

Sam didn't have an answer for that. "I went and saw my dad," she said quietly after several minutes.

"Really?"

"Went all the way to Arlington to see him."

Arlington National Cemetery, she meant. Jack kissed her temple. "I'm sorry."

"I found a copy of a press conference from eight years ago. It was of Dad and me - her. He was so proud of her. He died two months after she got back from her first space flight."

"He was proud of you, space shuttle or no space shuttle, stargate or no stargate."

Sam smiled through silent tears. "I know, but . . . It was hard enough to see him die once, you know?"

Jack nodded a little. "I can understand that."

"Apparently, the last six weeks of his life were - uh - were really hard," her voice had thickened with tears again.

He kissed her temple again and squeezed her tighter. He didn't want all their time together to be spent moping in silence. He had to cheer her up. He smiled a little, thinking of the perfect confession, "I use your shampoo," he said quietly.

Sam looked up from his chest. "What?"

"Smell my head," he leaned towards her and she took a whiff of his head. "I use your shampoo. It smells like you."

With tears still lighting up her eyes, she laughed, not just a little laugh. She broke into hysteria, sitting up to open up her lungs and try to recover her breath. He couldn't help but laugh too. He didn't know how long they laughed, doubled over each other, but the fit eventually subsided and the collapsed into each others' arms.

"I love you, Jack," she said after a few minutes of silence.

He pulled her tight to him again. "I love you, too, Sam."

- . - . -

After a while they got hungry, and decided to order in a pizza. Jack slid on some pants and a shirt and went to go get them their drinks from the vending machine at the end of the hall. When he got back to the room, Sam was sitting on the bed with the remote in hand and television on. She was wearing a pair of his boxers and the shirt he had just given her.

He stared for a minute. "That is so sexy."

She smiled. "I thought you'd like it."

He joined her and she flipped channels for a minute before she stumbled onto a movie they both liked. It was amazing how some things were still the same from their reality. He sat down next to her and waited until their pizza arrived. When it got there, he laid it across their laps and they shared it. For a short while, they felt normal.

For a short while.

After dinner they curled up together, a movie still on in the background.

"One of my colleagues keeps trying to set me up."

He looked at her with only a look Jack O'Neill could give.

"I said no."

"Erma tried to set me up, too. Every week for a couple months, but then she stopped."

"Why?"

"I told her I was married."

Sam smiled. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Did she believe you?"

"Not at first, but she did once I started telling her about you."

"What'd you tell her?"

He kissed her neck. "How good lookin' and smart you were."

She ruffled her hand through his hair, like one would do to a good dog.

"She asked why we weren't together."

"What'd you say?"

"I told it was complicated and I didn't want to talk about it."

"Did she believe you?"

"I think she thinks you left me and I'm in denial. So, she just doesn't mention it anymore."

She kissed him. "I'd never leave you," she said softly.

Jack squeezed her a little tighter to him and kissed her temple.

- . - . -

They stayed awake as much as they could, only allowing themselves a few hours of sleep before breakfast. They took a less than romantic joint shower, if only to make sure they didn't fall asleep standing up. It rejuvenated them slightly, so they packed, made a plan in case things didn't go their way, and headed down to breakfast around 0830.

Sitting in the small common area with the continental breakfast, they split the newspaper and felt normal, for a short while.

"General, Colonel?" Janet sounded surprised.

"Good morning, Doctor," Jack said, knowing full well she wasn't a doctor in this reality.

"I'm surprised to see you two down early."

"Sometimes we like to pretend we're normal," Jack smiled over his coffee cup.

"General, Colonel?" Major Davis also sounded surprised as he entered the room.

"Davis," Sam smiled politely.

Davis and Janet looked at each other before pulling chairs up to Sam and Jack's little table. Sam met Jack's gaze over her newspaper. With unspoken words, they decided to ignore Davis and Janet until 0900.

Luckily, Davis and Janet got the picture and didn't try to initiate contact.

With about two minutes to go, Jack put down his paper and smiled at Sam. "This was great, we really should do it again."

Sam returned his smile. "If only we could." They both turned to Davis and Janet.

Janet sighed heavily. "We have good news and bad news. The good news is that the two of you have proved enough of a nuisance that contact will not be completely restricted."

"Look at that, Carter, my being a nuisance finally paid off."

Janet glared at him for a minute. "The bad news is that we're not sure how much leeway we want to give you. This is too large of a decision to be made quickly, therefore a decision won't come for a number of days, perhaps weeks. In the interim, the policy has not changed, further contact is strictly prohibited."

Sam looked at Jack, matching his "oh just try me" expression.

The look was not lost on Janet. "No, really. We'll fight for the two of you, but the less you two cooperate the worse things are going to be. If either of you scratch at this door, it will stay closed."

"How long?" Sam asked.

Janet shook her head. "I don't know. But I will get things taken care of inside two months."

"You? Five-foot-two hell-on-wheels, Major Janet Fraiser? You're going to get things taken care of?" Sam asked.

Janet smiled. "Colonel, I'll drive you myself."

Sam and Jack smiled at each other and turned to Davis and Janet. "It looks like we have a deal, Doc."

- . - . - Twelve Days Later

The mail carrier dropped off the mail at the shop, Jack waved but continued to restock the duct tape. "Jack," Erma called from the front of the store, "you've got a letter."

"From who?" he asked, coming back to the counter, leaving his box of duct tape.

"It's not marked."

He took the plain white envelope from her and opened it with his pocket knife. Inside was a paper with Department of Defense letterhead and four words.

_Samantha O'Neill relocation: approved._

He gripped the counter top as his knees almost buckled beneath him.

"Jack," Erma grabbed his shoulder, "are you okay?"

"My wife is moving."

"What? Where?"

He kissed her forehead with a patented Carter mega watt grin, "Here."

- . - - -. -

Okay, so I couldn't decide on a pseudonym for Sam in this reality, so I decided to make it a joke.

Also, originally, there was no mention of Charlie or Jacob at all. But I got a few requests/inquiries about Charlie, so I doctored a scene. I hope it fits well.


	4. Chapter Three

Almost Normal

Chapter Three

Based upon Stargate: Continuum

For my good friend Ms. Erma and my Daddy, the one with the BMW roadbike.

- . - - - . - Several weeks to a few months later

Jack watched the silver Volvo with the little U-Haul pull into two of the parallel parking spots on the street store front. He chuckled to himself before picking his broom back up and heading towards the back of the store. It was probably some city slicker on their way through. He paused in his thoughts. _City Slicker?_ He was spending too much time with Erma.

The little bell on the door rang and he made his way towards the front of the store. In front of the counter, staring out the storefront at the street, stood a woman, tall and slender with dark wavy hair halfway down her back. She wore a black fleece jacket with a Cabela's logo near the seem on the bottom. He didn't recognize her.

"Can I help you?" he asked, leaning his broom against one of the shelving units.

"Oh, I think so," she said as she turned. The moment her mouth opened he had recognized her. However, seeing her all-too familiar face framed by unfamiliar hair confirmed her identity, eliminating any and all doubt.

Samantha Carter.

She smiled mischievously at him. "I'm new in town and I was thinking about picking up a new hobby."

He swallowed hard, she wanted to play. He could play. "Like what?"

"Fishing."

He almost swallowed his tongue.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah. It just that you look a lot like someone I know," he said.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Really? I think I would remember you."

He shrugged. "You can't be her, she's a blonde."

They stood there in silence a moment, grinning stupidly at each other. Well, to be fair, he was grinning stupidly, she was grinning playfully. "Fishing," she repeated, reminding him of their game.

"Oh, right," he said. "Let me show you what we've got." Jack motioned for her to follow him and led to her back to several rods hanging on the wall. He pulled one down. "I think you'll like this one."

She took it from him and fiddled with the reel a little. She made an abbreviated short cast.

"Here," he stepped up behind her, putting his arms around her. "Like this," he adjusted her grip on the pole and made another abbreviated cast. "Better?" he asked quietly.

She leaned back every so slightly, turning every bit of contact into a bit of pressure. "Much," she almost moaned.

His arms fit around her just as they had the first time he ever held her, she hadn't changed at all. He tucked his face to her neck and nuzzled some of her long locks out of the way. She had taken a shower this morning, he could smell it. She may have changed her hair color, but she hadn't changed shampoo, he could smell that too. He grazed his nose along the side of her chin, feeling her smooth skin.

Sam's breathing deepened at his nearness. Her breathing hitched when he pressed his lips to the side of her neck. He loved the way she reacted to his touch. God, he had missed her.

She tilted her head to the side, making eye contact for a brief moment before gently pressing her lips to his. It didn't take long for the chaste kiss to deepen. He released the fishing pole with one hand and pressed it flat against her stomach, right above her belt. He wiggled his fingers in order to hike up the very bottom of her shirt and sneak a few fingers underneath it. She moaned into his mouth and leaned back into him even more.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Sam Carter, his Carter, was here. She was here, in his arms, kissing him. It felt like it had been so long, and now . . . Now they were going to be together again. No more pity holidays with Erma because she simply refused to let him be alone. No more cold sleepless nights. Now he could hold her every night. Now he could kiss her every morning. Kiss? Hell, now he could . . .

"JACK!"

Jack released Sam and whipped around to see Erma standing behind him with her eyes and mouth wide open. He felt like a four year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar, or a teen caught by his girlfriend's dad with his hand up her shirt. Sam, however, was laughing hysterically.

The sound of her laughter made him laugh, too. "Erma," he slid his arm around Sam and pulled her to his side. "I don't think you've actually met my wife. This is Sam." He realized they probably looked ridiculous, standing next to each other with giddy grins and Sam holding a fishing pole.

Erma's look of absolute horror turned into delight and she rushed Sam with open arms, shoving Jack out of the way. Erma wrapped her arms around her. "I've heard so much about you, Sam!"

Sam laughed, hugging Erma back. "Good things, I hope."

"Excellent things, I assure you," she said, taking Sam's shoulders and leaning back to take a look at her. She frowned. "I thought he said you were blonde," she said, looking back at Jack.

He looked sheepish.

Sam smiled, fingering the locks. "It was time for a change," she explained, looking past Erma to Jack.

Erma regarded them carefully, noticing that she was out of the loop. After a moment, she turned to Jack with an authoritative glare. "Jack, what the devil are you still doing here? Were you born in a barn? Are you a complete and total swine?"

"What?" he asked, finally ripping his gaze from Sam.

"Your wife's finally here and you're not moving her into the house. Get her out of that U-Haul and into her house!"

"_Her_ house?" he repeated. Hey, it was _his_ house!

Erma glared at him and started shooing him towards the door, with Sam following while trying to contain her laughter.

"I'm going!" he tried to get out of Erma's reach, but she could be very insistent.

"I better not see you in here later today, or tomorrow for that matter."

"Fine," Jack said, knowing better than arguing with the old woman once she had made up her mind. She was known for grabbing the broom and wielding it like a quarterstaff.

"And bring your lovely wife by tomorrow evening for some supper. You cook like the devil."

Sam's almost well contained laugh burst.

Jack smiled at her before turning back to Erma. "We'll be there, I promise."

Erma hugged Sam again. "It was so nice to finally meet you dear. If you need any help with this one, just call me."

It was good to see Sam smile so genuinely. "Oh, I think I can handle him, Ma'am."

"You too?" she asked. "I couldn't get him to stop calling me that for weeks." She put both her hands on her own chest, "Erma."

Sam smiled, putting her arm around Jack's waist. "Erma."

Erma smiled then waved them off. "Get that city-slicker-mobile out of my store front before the natives get suspicious."

Laughing Jack led Sam outside. Sam laugh again as the door shut behind her.

"What?" he asked, realizing she was laughing about something else.

She let go of him and opened her car door. "She's your mother."

Jack looked back at the store from the other side of Sam's door. "She is not."

"Oh yes she is. It's amazing she didn't tell you to stop slouching."

"I was not slouching!" Well, that wasn't a good response for his argument.

She leaned towards him over the car door and he met her halfway, their lips meeting softly. "Of course you weren't," Sam said, even though she was obviously not conceding her point.

"Let me get my truck and you can follow me home."

"Home," Sam repeated quietly.

He kissed her again. "Yeah."

- . - . -

She followed his half ton Ford, similar to the one he had owned where they came from, through town and down some rural roads to a dirt driveway with thick woods on either side. It was a long driveway, but not two hundred yards, to a small clearing that held an old two story farm house and a barn. They sat on a small pond. There was a small orchard on the other side of the pond and a sat decrepit-looking swing set that must have been there when Jack bought the place.

He had told her about it when they were last together, but seeing it took her breath away. It was quaint, it was quiet, it was perfect.

He pulled up into next to the house, the driveway was paved for about thirty feet right at the house. He got out of his truck and met her next to her little car, similar to the one she had owned where they came from.

"So, Carter, what's in the U-Haul? You can't have that much crap."

She smiled. The little covered trailer was not for her clothes and things, they could have easily fit into her car, she just didn't have that much stuff. She hadn't collected much in the year they'd been there and she didn't care to bring with her much of the stuff the Air Force had supplied her with. No, the trailer held something much more familiar to her.

It took her a while to find it, but find it she did. It was one of the few things that made her feel like Samantha Carter.

"See for yourself," she offered.

He circled around to the back and opened the trailer. He let out a low whistle. It was her Indian.

Well, it wasn't _her_ Indian, it was _an_ Indian, but she loved it just the same. He smiled at her. "That is so sexy," he said with a wink. Reaching into the trailer, he undid the tie straps and pulled the Indian out gingerly and started wheeling it towards the garage.

She followed him.

He paused at his truck, reaching inside and hitting the garage door opener before continuing. He paused as the door opened.

She watched the door raise, glancing over at him. He was staring at her. When the door opened enough to see the contents inside, she knew why. Inside stood a large BMW road bike. She smiled back at him. "We can go riding together."

He set her bike upright on its stand and grabbed a large sheet from the corner and covered it. She didn't let him see her smirk. Why did Jack O'Neill keep extra sheets in his garage? Because he was expecting his wife to bring her motorcycle when she came to live with him. She loved him so much. God, she had missed him.

When he turned back around, he must have noticed her change in demeanor. He carefully approached her and slung his arms around her waist. "We can do a lot more than that, now."

She slung her arms around his shoulders and rewarded him with a soft smile. He leaned down and kissed her gently before releasing her with a gentle squeeze of her hip.

"Let's get your stuff inside, we can unpack later," he said, his tone turning light again.

She followed him back to her vehicle and grabbed a box. She loved the way he could change the subject and his demeanor at the drop of a hat. She knew he was still brooding too, but was better at hiding it than she was.

Not having many boxes to move, all of her things were sitting in the living room in a short while.

She leaned against the back of the couch and he brought her a beer. She took a few sips of it.

"Ready for the tour?" he asked, offering her his hand.

She took it and followed him around the house. He showed her the kitchen and the laundry room, telling her that he had to go grocery shopping to buy something other than beer, TV dinners, and bags of chips. He showed her the stairs to the half-finished basement, which he said that they could finish it together in their spare time, it they wanted. He pointed out the bathroom on the main level. He showed her the den and the grandfather clock, after walking by the living room and everything she had already seen.

Behind a pair of sliding stained glass doors was the "parlor" which he said with air quotes and a false grandiosity. Jack said that it was there when he got here and hadn't touched the room since, the amount of dust told her he wasn't lying.

He led her up the stairs and showed her the three empty bedrooms. They were fully furnished and even had sheets and blankets on the beds. He told her that keeping up the rooms was one of the things he did to keep himself occupied. He showed her the two hall closets and the full bath.

But he paused at the door at the end of the hall, the master bedroom she was sure.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She looked at him incredulously. They weren't the romantic_ close-your-eyes_ kind of people.

"Humor me," he said.

She did and let him maneuver her into the room. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Okay," he whispered, so she opened her eyes.

She knew why.

It was the same. It was exactly the same. She didn't know how he did it, but it was exactly the same.

It was a plain wooden frame queen sized bed. The exact same plain wooden frame queen sized bed they had shared so often up at his cabin in Minnesota. The quilt. It was the same quilt, she almost believed it was actually the same quilt. The same pattern of worn warm colors.

She whispered his name and covered his hands with her own. She just stared for a few minutes, her mind blank yet chaotic at the same time. This was it, she was finally home. Sure, this wasn't really her home at all and the Goa'uld were still coming. But, to be honest, at that moment she couldn't have cared less. Sam was done with solitary holidays and early bedtimes following a stiff drink.

She turned in his arms and walked backwards until she sat on the bed, pulling him down with her. After a bit of shuffling and a refusal to sacrifice skin contact, he was sitting on the bed propped up against the headboard with her straddling his thighs. She kissed him slow, reveling in the fact that they didn't have to rush and that it wasn't going to be over in the morning.

When one of his hands left her, she turned to find it. He had wrapped a few strands of her hair around his finger. He was fiddling with it.

"Like it?" she asked.

He took his other hand from its place on her lower back and threaded it through her hair, his palm tight against her skull. He smiled and nodded. "It's nice."

She was glad he liked it. She did it to try and lessen the countless stares she got whenever she went anywhere. Samantha Carter was a national hero. People had named their newborn children after her. Tears started to well in her eyes as she remembered that she wasn't allowed to be Samantha Carter anymore.

Jack stroked her cheek with his thumb. "None of that," he said, "you'll always be Sam Carter to me."

For a brief moment, Sam wondered how much he had worried about her issues with lack of identity in the months they were apart. He wasn't one to over think things, but he definitely have them the consideration they deserved. However she pushed the thought aside when he kissed her softly. She offered him a small smile.

He smiled back at her, and in a voice thick with emotion, he whispered, "Welcome home."

- . - FIN - . -


End file.
